What It Takes
by Clutching at Straws
Summary: Vanessa's return to town can't be good, but even in his worst nightmares, Buddy didn't imagine it could be this bad... [Sequel to The Coming Storm]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

Author Note: If you're a M.A.S.K. canon purist, you may want to look away now. I'm playing a little fast and loose with one or two canon elements. I hope you can forgive me.

Story Note: This follows on from The Coming Storm. If you haven't read that, I strongly recommend you do as that sets up much of the back-story for this.

With many thanks to Jonath, Ganeris, Nessa and Angel for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

What It Takes

One

The bar was only moderately busy as Buddy entered. A handful of people making an early start to their weekend. That suited him just fine. He didn't normally drink, but after the past two weeks, getting very, horribly drunk held an appeal. Maybe that way he'd be able to forget the mess his life was in. Maybe.

He made his way over to the bar and sank down onto the nearest barstool. The barman gave him an assessing look. For answer, Buddy simply dropped his faked ID on the bar. The barman glanced at it and grunted, "What're you having?"

"Gimme a beer," Buddy answered.

The barman grunted again, poured the drink and moved on.

Buddy stared at the drink for a while. The last time he'd been in a bar, Vanessa had been with him. So had Mac. They'd been celebrating the win in the racer competition. Now Mac was dead and Vanessa---

"Y'know I think it's kinda a crime to cry into a beer," said a voice.

Dully, Buddy looked round. Standing beside him was a brown-haired man of about his own age with a face that suggested its owner tended to go through life with a perpetual smile. He wasn't smiling at the moment, but Buddy guessed a smile wasn't all that far away.

Buddy wasn't in the mood. "So?" he bit out.

"So," said the man smiling and sliding onto the next barstool, "I'm figuring you need some cheering up."

"No thanks." Buddy turned back to his drink.

"Fine," drawled the man, his Texan accent becoming more pronounced. "You want to do miserable, I can do miserable too."

"You know what?" Buddy asked, turning to the man again. "When someone comes to a bar, maybe – just maybe – they're looking for peace and quiet. Not some freaking self-appointed--- Shit, I don't think I even have a word for you."

The man just lifted an eyebrow. "Peace and quiet. Right," he said, a surprising amount of sarcasm now colouring his voice. "So you've come to a bar instead of buying a bottle of cheap whiskey and sitting around in whatever hole you call home." Buddy gaped. "But sure, you want peace and quiet."

Buddy opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, unable to think of a suitable response to this diatribe. The man, clearly satisfied with his work, sipped his own drink and smiled again.

"Look, who the hell are you and why the hell are you bugging me?" Buddy finally asked.

The man stuck out a hand. "Dusty Hayes."

Buddy ignored the hand. "And you're bugging me, exactly, why?"

"You look like you could use a friend."

Buddy snorted. "Yeah well. The last one of those I had was murdered two weeks ago. You might wanna rethink that idea."

He was rewarded by seeing a wince cross Dusty's face. "She-it," Dusty mumbled. Then, oddly, he smiled. "All the more reason you need a friend now."

Buddy stared. "Can't you take a hint?"

"No," said Dusty. "Besides; nothing in life ever looks quite so bad when ya have a good pizza and a cold beer." He stood up. "And I ain't takin' no for an answer."

"You're---" But once again, Buddy found he didn't really know how to define Dusty.

Dusty, for his part, grinned. "You're what? On? Right? Buying the beer?"

Buddy opened his mouth, then closed it again. What was the point? "All right," he muttered. "I give up. I'll come quietly."

Dusty grinned. "Knew you'd see it my way in the end." He tossed some ones down onto the bar. "C'mon."

* * *

"I'm worried about Buddy." 

Matt looked up from his work to see Sarah curled up on the couch and frowning heavily. "Any particular reason?"

Sarah stared at him for a moment, her frown slowly mutating into a look of complete outrage. "Matt, that poor boy is hurting badly about his sister choosing to go with Mayhem and all you can say is 'any particular reason'?"

"Ah, that." Matt winced.

"Yes, that." Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed. "You do realise that he's not back from the gas station yet?"

It was Matt's turn to sigh. He dropped his pen back on the table. "You do realise that all I've done is employed him? You don't actually have to adopt him as well."

"Matt, he's a kid who's never had anyone much look out for him, apart from Vanessa. Now she's gone and done this! You know, I'd love to get my hands on her and---"

"If you see her on the street, I want you to promise me you'll turn and walk the other way," Matt cut in. "No matter how you feel about what she's done, and believe me you're not the only one, she's dangerous." He picked up the sheet he'd been writing on and held it out to her. "If you needed proof of that, here."

"What's this?" Sarah asked, accepting it and starting to scan the page's content.

"It's a copy of a police report Duane faxed to me," Matt replied. "It's about a jewellery heist in Los Angeles." He sat back and folded his arms while Sarah read and watched as she winced. "She doesn't seem to have actually done anything to the staff there; that seems to have been entirely down to our old friend Bruno. But she was there. In fact, she seems to have been the only reason they actually got away with anything."

Sarah handed the report back. "I'd still like to kick her ass for what she's done to Buddy." She narrowed her eyes. "So would you, if I'm any judge."

Matt shrugged. "Of course I would."

"Then---"

"I'm worried about Buddy as well," Matt finished.

"What happened to 'all I've done is employed him'?"

Matt smiled wryly. "I know."

"Then you're going to do something."

"I've already done it."

But if Matt thought that was going to persuade Sarah to relax, he was soon disillusioned. "Matt, don't you think he's been manipulated enough?"

"Manipu---" Matt stopped and shook his head. "I'm not manipulating him." Sarah just stared at him, unconvinced. "I'm not."

"Then what've you done?"

"I told you about Dusty Hayes?" Sarah nodded. "He arrived in town yesterday and starts work for me on Sunday."

"So?"

Matt picked up his pen again. "So I think Dusty will be good for Buddy. He's impossibly up-beat. Either he'll piss Buddy off completely or they'll get on great. Either way, it'll give Buddy something to think about other than brooding, and right now, I think that's the best we can hope for."

* * *

Dusty's apartment was less than a block away from the bar. To Buddy's surprise, though, the whole place looked like a disaster zone. Boxes of junk covered most of the furniture and large tracts of the floor. He eyed it cautiously as he followed Dusty between the boxes towards the kitchen, which seemed to be the one area of the apartment that was tidy. 

"Moved in yesterday," Dusty explained, pulling a bowl of dough out of the fridge as he spoke. "Haven't gotten round to unpacking yet."

"I can see that," Buddy replied.

Dusty chuckled as he turned the oven on to pre-heat. "I got my priorities ordered right, though. Ma always reckoned you get the kitchen fixed up good an' the rest could follow any time." Then, to Buddy's surprise, Dusty started, from scratch, to prepare a pizza.

Buddy watched in silent amazement as Dusty deftly spun the dough and turned it into a thin, even base pizza base.

"You know, when you said pizza, I sorta thought you meant take out," Buddy finally observed. "Or maybe frozen."

Dusty snorted. "Frozen pizza's gross," he pronounced, rapidly spreading tomato sauce onto the freshly spun base.

"It's not so bad."

Dusty snorted again. "You won't say that once you've had some of the good stuff."

"It's quicker," Buddy pointed out as Dusty started spreading cheese over the tomato sauce.

"That still don't make it good pizza," Dusty retorted. "Trust me." He slid the pizza into the oven. "So, you want a beer? I got some in the fridge."

Buddy glanced at the boxes that were decorating the apartment and the obvious state of unpacking. "Guess I'm sorta impressed you've got anything in the fridge at all."

Dusty shrugged. "Like I said; the kitchen's right an' ready. The rest ain't so important."

Buddy slowly shook his head. "Y'know, you're kinda weird."

Dusty grinned. "Sure am." He opened the fridge. "Oh, hey; if you don't want beer, I got coke, too."

"Since I'm figuring you ain't gonna let me get drunk," said Buddy wryly, "coke sounds great."

Dusty laughed and pitched a can in Buddy's direction. "Figured you might say that."

Buddy caught the can and looked at it. "Hey; this isn't coke!"

"Well, sure it is," said Dusty, puzzled.

"It's root beer," Buddy pointed out.

"Yeah," said Dusty. "Coke."

"No," said Buddy patiently. "Coke comes in a red can with a boatload of sugar."

Dusty shrugged. "All the same to me."

"I take it back," said Buddy. "You're not kinda weird, you're very weird."

Dusty grinned. "Well, sure." He flipped the top off a beer bottle and sent it spinning up and behind the fridge. "You want one of these?"

"You gonna let me get drunk?"

"Hell no."

"Guess I'm sticking with root beer, then," said Buddy cautiously opening the can he was holding.

"Guess you are," Dusty agreed. He gestured to the one armchair that didn't have boxes piled on top of it. "Take a load off," he directed.

Buddy sat down. "Why'd you come here?"

"Got a job offer," Dusty answered, shoving a couple of boxes off another armchair and sitting down himself. "I was working in Hollywood for Luigi del Gardo---"

"Who?"

Dusty grinned. "He owns a whole bunch o' pizza parlours right across the south – from San Diego to the Florida Keys, that's his slogan. His brother, Mario, opened up a parlour here maybe six months ago, but his pizza cook quit two weeks ago. Luigi asked me if I'd like the job. I said sure."

Buddy stared for a moment. "Lemme see if I got this right. You're Texan, right?" Dusty nodded. "You were in Hollywood, working at a pizza joint; the owner's brother starts one up here, the cook quits and they ask you to move here and be the pizza slinger."

"You got it," Dusty agreed.

"That's the dumbest---" Buddy shook his head. "I take it back. You're not weird, you're insane."

"Nah," said Dusty, grinning. "I just don't like Hollywood."

"Then why--- You know what, don't tell me," Buddy decided. "I kinda like my brain working." Dusty laughed. "So you're gonna be working downtown here?"

"Uh-huh. Luigi's on Valmont Road," Dusty replied. "Soon to be home of the best pizza outsida Italy."

"Says the cook, modestly," Buddy retorted just as the oven's timer started bleeping. "Sure hope this pizza's half as good as your boasting."

"It's better," Dusty promised.

Buddy remained dubious as Dusty produced the pizza with a flourish. He did have to admit it looked rather better than his own, frequently singed, efforts at cooking frozen pizza – the cheese looked perfectly melted, the base was beautifully golden brown and it all smelt fantastic. But that didn't mean it tasted good.

"Well dig in," Dusty invited.

Cautiously, Buddy helped himself to a slice and gingerly bit into it. To his surprise, the pizza **was** good. Something of his surprise must have shown in his face because Dusty's grin widened appreciably until it was of almost face-splitting proportions.

"See?" he drawled.

Buddy just rolled his eyes and gestured with his part-empty soda can. "If you're gonna tell me you told me so, I'm gonna stick this can where the sun don't shine."

Dusty laughed.

For the first time in two weeks, Buddy found himself cracking a genuine smile. "You were right; it is good pizza."

"Of course I was right," Dusty snorted. "So," he added, helping himself to a slice of pizza, "why were you hanging out in a bar?"

Buddy felt his smile fade rapidly. "I don't wanna---"

"You might not 'wanna'," said Dusty, his expression turning unexpectedly serious, "but you're gonna anyway." Buddy lifted an eyebrow. "Shoot," said Dusty, "you're just a kid – if you're over twenty-one I'll eat my best hat – and I don't care what you say, no kid should be thinkin' about crying into a beer." Dusty paused. "How old are you, anyways?"

"Eighteen tomorrow," Buddy admitted.

Dusty blinked. "Shee-it; you're even more of a kid than I was thinkin'." Then he stopped and shook his head. "I guess I ain't in too much of a position to be castin' stones. I left home to go to Hollywood when I was barely eighteen. An' I'm figuring you hate being called a kid anyhow."

Buddy blinked. Dusty was clearly more perceptive than his easy-going demeanour suggested. "Then why do you keep calling me that?"

Dusty shrugged, a little apologetically. "I guess cos that's what I first figured you were. So, what's so bad you wanted to risk getting into trouble with the authorities over drinking underage?"

Buddy sighed. "Can't you just let it go?"

"Nope," said Dusty. He stood up and headed back into the kitchen. "You want another soda?"

"Sure." Buddy leaned forwards and took a second slice of pizza from the dish, wondering if he could pretend the root beer was alcoholic if he tried hard enough. He judged that there was going to be no distracting Dusty from this self-imposed mission; he just wasn't sure he wanted to explain it all while being stone cold sober.

Dusty handed over the can of soda and sat down again. "So?" he prompted. "What brought you to a bar tonight?"

"You're impossible." Buddy groaned. Dusty just picked up a slice of pizza and looked expectant. "Look; I had this huge, big-time argument with my sister. She---" Buddy stopped. How did he explain what had happened two weeks ago without dragging in VENOM and top-secret government agencies? "We've both done some, some less than legal shit." Buddy snorted. "I have a criminal record that probably would stretch between here and New York. I'm no angel. But what she's done I--- I can't agree with and she can't see that she's wrong. Writing shit on a building just don't compare to hanging out with guys who're prepared to cold-bloodedly shoot someone."

"Your friend," Dusty guessed. "Your sister went with the folks who did that, right?" Buddy nodded. "Shoot. That's some messed up shit right there." He paused. "I got myself three kid sisters, they're all still in junior high, and I don't know what I'd do if one o' them pulled something like that." He smiled briefly. "Kick her butt good, prob'ly!"

Buddy tried to picture himself doing that to Vanessa and failed. They were too close in age for that to have ever worked.

"But, y'know what? I reckon Ellie, Billy-Jo or Martha would come back round eventually, even without me kicking their butt. And maybe your sister will, too. I don't think you can just give up on her. Sure, she ain't thinkin' too straight right now, but who knows how she'll be thinkin' two weeks from now."

Buddy snorted. "That'd mean she'd admitted she was wrong."

"Ah," said Dusty knowingly. "Stubborn, huh?"

"As hell," Buddy agreed. "And always right."

Dusty grinned. "Sounds like my brother Ben."

Buddy started to reply, then stopped and frowned. "You got a brother and three sisters?"

"Two brothers," Dusty corrected. "And there's a baby on the way."

Buddy stared. "Seven kids?"

Dusty grinned. "M'dad came from a big family and always figured he'd have a big family too."

Buddy tried to imagine what life was like with that many siblings and failed dismally. He shook his head. "Wow."

Dusty grinned wider. "They're all younger than I am, 'fact Ben was born after I headed west. But it was kinda a zoo for a while."

Buddy shook his head again. "It sounds it."

"Anyhoo," Dusty continued, turning serious again, "from what you've said, I don't guess there's a whole hell of a lot you can do right now, 'cept be willin' to let your sister come back. Guess that don't help much, huh?"

"Not really."

"But neither does goin' to a bar and drinking yourself under the table," Dusty pointed out. "You might forget the shit for a while, but come the morning you remember it all again, and you get to be sick as a dog as well. It ain't worth it."

"I know." Buddy sighed. "Mac'd probably kick my butt for it."

"Your friend, right?"

Buddy nodded. "I swear he's 'most the only reason I ain't in jail."

"You weren't kidding about being no angel, huh?" Dusty looked amused.

"Mac bailed me out way too many times," Buddy admitted. "Thing is, with my record? Cops here figure I had a hand in it just because I saw it happen. So everyone keeps looking at me, like they're expecting me to suddenly, I don't know, make the same choice m'sister did. And I'm tired of it. I just wanted one night where I could forget about it. Even with being sick as shit tomorrow."

"And getting picked up for being under the influence is gonna raise the local police department's opinion of you how?" Dusty pointed out dryly.

"I never said it was a good plan."

Dusty helped himself to the last slice of pizza and frowned. "What you need's something else to think about for a little while." His expression brightened. "An' I think I know what, too."

Something told Buddy to be cautious. "Oh?"

Dusty grinned. "You doin' anything tomorrow?"

"I've got a tonne of work and---"

"First off, tomorrow's Saturday," said Dusty severely. "Second off, didn't you just say tomorrow was your birthday?"

"Yes, so and?"

"So you don't work on your birthday; you do fun stuff." Dusty was adamant. "You don't actually have to go to work tomorrow, right?"

Buddy slowly shook his head; almost wishing Earl had the gas station fully open over the weekend.

"Right, then. Tomorrow, you're gonna do something fun, an' something I figure you ain't done before," said Dusty. "You know where Luigi's is on Valmont Road?"

Buddy nodded. Not that he was planning on telling Dusty about it, but the convenience store he'd tried robbing was right across the street from the pizza parlour. "What about it?"

"Meet me there at ten o'clock tomorrow morning," said Dusty, grinning. "Trust me, you're gonna have fun. Oh," he added, "and you might wanna wear stuff you ain't gonna mind getting wrecked."

* * *

It had been late by the time Buddy finally returned to the mansion, and given the conversation with Dusty, he'd fully expected to sleep badly. But he hadn't. He'd fallen asleep almost the moment his head had touched the pillow and would have still been asleep now, but for the pounding on the apartment door. 

He flopped over onto his back and squinted blearily up at the ceiling. Under normal circumstances, the Trakkers left him to his own devices first thing in the morning, and even in the last two weeks, they hadn't checked up on him **this** early. So why was someone looking for him this early today?

Yawning, Buddy rolled out of bed and stumbled to the door, vaguely wondering just what time it was, anyway. He opened it and blinked owlishly at Matt, who had his hand raised in preparation to knocking once more. There was a brief moment of the absurd, when Buddy wondered if Matt was about to actually punch him in the face, then Matt lowered his hand.

"Sorry," said Matt sheepishly.

Buddy just blinked. "Uh?"

"We were wondering," Matt continued, "if you'd like to join us for breakfast this morning."

It slowly filtered through Buddy's sleep-fogged mind that the invitation probably had something to do with it being his birthday. He hadn't expected Matt and Sarah to take much, if any, notice of the date, if any at all. He blinked again. "Uh, sure."

Matt looked amused. "Guess you're not so much awake yet, huh?"

Buddy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Not so much."

"Well, breakfast's in about half an hour," said Matt. "That OK?"

"Sure." Buddy was fairly sure that he could manage to be properly awake by then.

Matt nodded. "All right; see you then."

As Matt headed back down the stairs, Buddy closed the apartment door and headed straight for the kitchen. If he was going to be fully awake inside half an hour he was going to need the strongest coffee he could brew.

* * *

Three cups of coffee so strong it could more or less support the spoon and a hot shower later, Buddy made his way down to the dining room. He still wasn't fully awake, but at least he was in a condition where he wasn't likely to make a complete idiot of himself. He hoped. 

He was, however, more than a little surprised to see not only Matt, Sarah and Scott in the dining room, but also Alex. He blinked and wondered if his initial assumption, that this was somehow connected to his birthday, was correct.

"Good morning," said Alex.

"Uh hi?" Buddy answered, feeling oddly nervous.

"Come in, sit down and help yourself to pancakes," Sarah advised. "Ignore those two," she added, inclining her head towards Matt and Alex. "I don't know what they've got planned but it is **not** more important than eating."

"I think we've just been told off again," said Alex with a theatrical sigh.

"I think you might be right," Matt agreed, chuckling.

Buddy slowly shook his head as he sat down. Was everyone he knew little insane? He smiled faintly and helped himself to a couple of pancakes from the stack as Sarah had ordered. Maybe a little insanity was no bad thing. He made a start on the pancakes and discovered he was actually hungry. Breakfast wasn't normally a meal he bothered with.

"Now that's taken care of," said Matt, "happy birthday."

Buddy smiled. "Thanks." To his surprise, both Matt and Alex produced gift-wrapped parcels.

"It is, I believe," said Alex with a grin, "customary to receive gifts on one's birthday."

"This," said Matt, offering the parcel he was holding, "is from Sarah and myself."

Given little alternative, Buddy set down his fork and accepted the parcel. He stared at it for a moment or two; was he supposed to open it here and now? Sarah gave him a fractional nod, as if to answer his confusion. Carefully, he slit open the paper and drew out a large, thick book about vintage cars. It was an edition Mac had owned at the shop and one he'd coveted on several occasions. On a sudden suspicion, Buddy opened the cover. There, printed on the flysheet, was Mac's name. This was Mac's copy. How…?

"Mac left it to you," Matt explained quietly. "His will stated it was to go to you because you were 'someone who knew how to appreciate it'."

Buddy swallowed, hard, to try and rid himself of the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "Thank you," he whispered.

There was a moment of slightly awkward silence, then Alex said, "I rather hope you won't consider this a comment on your timekeeping."

That was enough to derail Buddy's otherwise maudlin thoughts. Setting the book down carefully on the floor, he accepted the much smaller box that Alex was holding out. Once again slitting the paper cautiously, he drew out a small, flat, plastic box of the sort that he'd seen jewellery come in. Bemused, Buddy opened the box and discovered he was looking at a rather expensive digital watch.

"I---" he began.

"It is custom designed," said Alex, "and specifically water and goo-be-gone resistant."

A custom designed watch? Buddy blinked. How on earth could he accept that? Even if it would survive the rigours of being his watch, it had to be far too expensive a gift. He opened his mouth to say so.

"Call it a perk of the job," said Matt with a wink.

Buddy closed his mouth again. It felt wrong to accept such an expensive gift; on the other hand, Matt's implication was clear: The watch was more than just a watch. _Does that mean it flies, too?_ he wondered irreverently as he set the box down on the table. He mustered a smile. "Thanks."

Alex smiled. "You're most welcome."

"So," said Sarah as everyone began eating once more, "are you planning anything fun today?"

"I don't know," Buddy admitted. The more he thought about the night before, the sillier it sounded. He didn't know Dusty beyond what little Dusty had said about himself and there was something about the story the Texan had told, as to why he was in Boulder, that just didn't quite add up. Given VENOM and Vanessa, he ought to be more suspicious and less trusting.

"You don't know?" echoed Matt.

"Well I should---"

Matt held his hand up. "If you're about to say anything connected to Firecracker, Condor or engineering projects in general; don't." He grinned. "Unless you really want Sarah locking you out of the garage."

Buddy stared at first Matt, then Sarah. "But I---"

"Spend far too much time down there and don't get out into the sunshine nearly often enough," finished Sarah. "Today, at least, you are not going to spend every second down there."

"If I were you," said Alex confidentially, "I'd give up now."

"Besides," added Matt, "you ought to know that the test driver arrives tomorrow. Might as well have some fun today."

Buddy blinked. An obvious explanation for the hole in Dusty's story presented itself. It couldn't be that simple, could it? "Test driver? You found one?"

"Yup," said Matt. "He's an ex-stunt driver for Parafilm who's got quite a reputation for being able to pilot or drive anything."

Buddy grinned. Dusty hadn't said the film industry was the reason he'd been living in Hollywood, but it made sense. "What's his name?"

"Dusty Hayes."

Buddy looked down at the remains of his pancakes. "I'm looking forward to meeting him, then," he managed. Maybe he'd explain tomorrow.

* * *

An hour or so later, after taking his gifts up to the apartment and changing into some of his oldest clothes, Buddy headed into Boulder to meet up with Dusty. As he drove down Valmont Road, heading for Luigi's Pizzeria, he still wasn't convinced this was exactly a good idea, but since Sarah did seem perfectly serious about kicking him out of the garage, and given Dusty wasn't a VENOM agent, he couldn't think of anything better to do. And maybe Sarah did have a point, seeing as he wasn't sure when he'd last done something purely for 'fun'. 

To his relief, Dusty was standing outside the pizza parlour, waiting. Buddy pulled up along side the curb and climbed out of Firecracker. "Hi," he called.

Dusty jumped. Then stared. "That's **your** truck?" he exclaimed.

"Uh, sorta," Buddy answered.

Dusty eyed Firecracker dubiously. "Sure hope you know a good mechanic."

Buddy grinned. "Yeah, I know one of those." Then, seeing Dusty was still looking dubious, he added, "That would be my day job. Fixing this up's a side project and I've been kinda busy." Dusty didn't look all that reassured. "So what is it you're dragging me to?"

Still casting uneasy glances at Firecracker, Dusty mustered a grin. "We need to be in Glenwood by noon."

"Glenwood." Buddy sighed. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Now where'd the fun in that be?"

Buddy just rolled his eyes. "Get in," he directed.

Dusty eyed Firecracker again. "Is it safe?"

"Look at it this way," said Buddy climbing back into the truck's cab. "If it's not, you're not the only one gonna be wiped out. Right?"

"There is that." Dusty climbed into Firecracker. "Well, all right; let's go."

The drive from Boulder to Glenwood was enjoyable. They more or less had the road to themselves, which suited Buddy nicely and, once he'd relaxed about the condition of Firecracker, Dusty kept him entertained by telling improbable stories about his numerous siblings. Little by little, Buddy began to relax. This would be all right.

When Dusty directed him into the parking lot of an outdoor activity centre on the edge of Glenwood, though, Buddy's worst fears about exactly what Dusty had planned resurfaced.

"Can you swim?" Dusty asked as Buddy parked.

"Uh, yeah," Buddy answered cautiously. "Why?" Although even as he asked, Buddy realised he could guess.

All Dusty said was, "You'll see."

Resigned, Buddy followed Dusty in to the centre.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself several miles up-stream on the Colorado River wearing a life jacket and a crash helmet. In front of him, a lightweight rubber dingy bucked and bounced against the rope securing it to the jetty.

Buddy looked from Dusty to the boat and back again.

"You want me," he said slowly, "to get in that," and he waved a hand at the boat, "and travel down stream, through the rapids?"

"Y'uh-huh," said Dusty, nodding. "It'll be fun."

"You're nuts," said Buddy flatly.

Dusty grinned. "Y'uh-huh," he agreed. "But you'll enjoy it. Trust me. Besides," he added, "unless you want to walk back, how else are you gonna get back to your truck?"

Buddy looked at his friend. "I take it back. You're not nuts, I am."

* * *

Contrary to his own expectations, Buddy **did** enjoyed travelling down through the rapids. He'd ended up utterly soaked, but with the sun being hot – and the fact that Dusty'd had the foresight to bring a couple of towels – it hadn't mattered that much, and although most of the journey had been a variation on complete terror as far as Buddy was concerned, it had been three hours where he'd been able to completely forget everything. 

He'd dropped Dusty off back at Dusty's apartment, with the promise that they'd hang out later in the week, once Dusty'd got a little more settled in, and the headed back to the mansion, tired but far more relaxed than he'd been in a long while.

Unfortunately, as Buddy now climbed out of Firecracker and attempted the stairs up, out of the parking garage, he discovered that the afternoon's fun had come at a cost. Muscles he hadn't known he owned complained bitterly and made simply walking difficult and, from the way his back was beginning to ache, he suspected he'd got at least one bruise across his lower back from being slapped back against the edge of the boat.

"What on earth have you been doing?"

Sheepishly, Buddy looked up and saw Sarah regarding him rather curiously. "Um. White water rafting."

"White. Water. Rafting." Sarah slowly shook her head. "That sounds like something Matt might do."

"I don't think it's going to be a hobby for me. Once was enough," Buddy mumbled as he finally reached the top of the stairs. The next time Dusty suggested something 'fun', he was going to have to find a really good excuse not to join in!

"Oh, I'm with you there," Sarah agreed with another shake of her head. "Do you want some painkillers?"

"I've got some," he answered. "But thanks."

"Well, the offer's there if you need it." Sarah started to continue on along the hallway then stopped. "Did you at least have some fun while you were doing it?"

Buddy laughed, then winced as he discovered an additional selection of strained muscles. "Yeah, I did actually."

Sarah smiled. "Good."

She headed off in the direction of her studio and Buddy proceeded to hobble up the stairs to his apartment. With a thought that Dusty would probably complain about him eating it, Buddy put a frozen pizza into the apartment's oven, swallowed a couple of Advil pills and then made for the desk and sat down.

There was one other thing the afternoon's activities had provided him with. So far, MASK could tackle VENOM by air and by road. Maybe it was time to come up with something that could cover for the places where there were no roads. On a fresh sheet of construction paper, he started to sketch out a plan for a vehicle that could, literally, take on all types of terrain. Even water.

* * *

He was still working on the design, which he'd mentally started to dub Gator, the following morning when there was a knock on the apartment door. 

Chewing on the end of his pencil and frowning at what he'd got so far, he absently called, "It's open."

"Good morning," called Matt, entering the apartment. "Busy?"

"Uh, kinda," Buddy mumbled, not looking round.

Matt chuckled. "Well, I just thought you ought to be here to meet the test driver, is all."

That got Buddy's attention. He blinked and craned his neck, half expecting to see Dusty standing with Matt.

"He's down in my office," Matt added. "I'll introduce you."

Buddy gratefully dropped his pencil back on the desk and stiffly stood up. "Sure."

Matt favoured him with a look. "Are you OK?"

Buddy smiled ruefully. "Better than yesterday evening."

"Should I ask?"

"It's a long story."

Shaking his head, Matt led the way out of the apartment and down to the office. Buddy followed; he suspected this was going to be entertaining.

"Dusty," Matt began as they entered the office, "this is our vehicle specialist, Buddy Hawks. Buddy---"

"Ho-ly!" exclaimed Dusty, cutting Matt off. "I guess you must be a mechanic after all."

Matt blinked. "You know each other."

"We've met," Buddy agreed, grinning.

Matt slowly shook his head. "Well, since we don't need introductions, I guess we should get down to work." He opened the office door. "Follow me."

Buddy followed on behind Dusty, still grinning. It was probably going to be the only time he ever got the jump on both Matt and Dusty, but somehow, Buddy didn't mind too much. He suspected Dusty's presence was going to liven things up quite dramatically. _And that's no bad thing._

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

With many thanks to Jonath, Ganeris, Nessa, Beth and Angel for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

What It Takes

Two

Buddy stared at himself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. It was the day of Mac's funeral and he was dreading it. Only the fact that he felt he owed it to Mac to go kept him from finding somewhere to hide until it was all over. _Mac wouldn't recognise me,_ he decided, shaking his head.

Plain white shirt; black suit pants; black jacket; hair as neat and tidy as was possible; black tie held in his hand, ready to be tied around his neck. The one thing that looked remotely normal was the way his hands had a greyish tinge to them, where the oil, grease and grunge was too ingrained to ever be properly removed.

"Buddy?"

Sarah's voice drifted into him. "In here," he answered, stepping back from the door. A moment later and she appeared. "How do I look?"

Sarah eyed him critically for a moment. "I think you'll do." She paused. "Do you need a hand with the tie, or do you just want to strangle it?"

That was when Buddy realised he had a death grip around the strip of silk. He ducked his head in embarrassment and held the tie out to her. "Please."

She took it and gently smoothed out the very worst of the creases as best she could. "Hm. Bend down a moment." Buddy obligingly crouched down and deftly Sarah knotted the tie around his neck and straightened his collar. "There."

Buddy stood up and looked at himself in the mirror again, only to see a virtual stranger staring back. _I'll be glad to get this over and done._

"You look very smart," said Sarah gently. "Mac would be proud of you, Buddy; very proud."

"Would he?"

"You've done what Mac wanted for all his kids," she replied. "You're making something of your life."

"I guess." He sighed. "I just---"

"So help me," Sarah said sternly, "if you're about to finish that sentence with guilt over Mac's death. It is not your fault. No way, no how." She held her hand out. "C'mon; Matt's waiting downstairs."

Buddy sighed again and allowed her to lead him out of the apartment.

Matt was waiting at the foot of the stairs. Buddy half wondered if that was to prevent him from bolting at the first chance.

"We'll be back this afternoon," said Matt. "Buddy?" He gestured to the stairs down to the parking garage. "Shall we?"

Buddy contemplated running for the safety of his apartment. He even got as far as turning, only to realise that Sarah was standing between him and the apartment. "Sure," he managed to croak. "Let's go."

* * *

The thing that struck Buddy about the graveside ceremony, as he arrived, was the sheer number of people in attendance. He recognised a few of them as being people who'd hung out at Mac's shop with him; many more, though, were complete strangers. Mac had touched a lot of people, from many different walks of life.

"Thank you for coming," said a soft voice.

Blinking, Buddy looked up. Standing in front of him was Ava Gronberg, Mac's older sister. He recognised her from a photograph Mac had kept on his desk. "Uh, me?" he asked, realising that at some point during his wool gathering, Matt had vanished into the crowd.

"You see another Buddy Hawks around?" she quipped, the words an exact match for something that Mac might have said. "Mac told me a lot about you; I feel like I've known you almost as long as Mac did. It's nice to finally meet you."

Buddy blinked. Mac had talked about him to his sister? "Uh, thanks," he murmured faintly.

Ava smiled, her expression tinged with sadness. "I'm just sorry we're meeting like this." Then, to Buddy's surprise, she reached up and wrapped him in a tight hug. "I know it's got to be hard for you," she whispered. "From what the cops have told me, you were there, and I can't imagine what it's been like. Know this, though: Whatever happened, whatever Mac did, he made that choice. Don't blame yourself."

"But I--- How---"

Ava stepped back, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "Mac told me, the day before it happened, there was trouble on the way. He said you were caught up in it, that you didn't know, and that if anything happened to him, I was to make sure you knew it was his choice." She sniffed. "You do understand that?"

Buddy swallowed against sudden tears. "I think so," he managed to answer.

Ava mustered a smile. "Good." She glanced over her shoulder at where the minister was standing, ready. "Time to begin." She dabbed her eyes again. "Thank you."

And with that, she vanished into the crowd.

Buddy swallowed again.

"You OK?" Matt asked softly.

Buddy started; he hadn't seen Matt return. He opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment, the priest stepped forward. So instead, he nodded. He'd explain later.

"We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a good man and celebrate his life," the minister began. "Mackenzie Stevens was a man who believed in practising what he preached and who believed most strongly in the maxim 'do unto others'. His selfless donation of time to anyone in need and his rejection of violence make his passing seem all the more senseless."

Senseless. Buddy cringed at the word. It had been that all right. Senseless and violent. Suddenly, more than anything in the world, Buddy wanted to leave. His being here was wrong. No matter what Ava asserted or what anyone else told him, some part of Mac's death was his fault. If he hadn't been what Mayhem had wanted, none of this could have happened.

He started to step backwards, intending to leave, but movement from the corner of his eye made him stop. Someone was shaking their head. Buddy half turned and saw the source of the disapproval. It was a young woman standing on the farthest fringes of the funeral party. Dressed in a sombre black dress and with a dark coloured headscarf covering her hair, she wouldn't have looked at all out of place, except for the fact that she was deliberately standing apart from the other mourners and she was staring straight at him.

Seeing she'd caught his attention, she hastily looked away again, but that brief glimpse was enough for Buddy to identify her: Vanessa.

Why was she here? But the answer was blindingly obvious; Mac had helped her as much as he'd helped Buddy.

Except that she was with the people who'd done this. She'd chosen them; even knowing they'd done this. Buddy felt a surge of anger: How dare she come here?

He felt a nudge in his side. Looking round, he saw Matt giving him a bemused look. "You OK?"

Buddy blinked. The service was over and the mourners were leaving. "Uh---" He looked back to where Vanessa was standing, only to find that she'd gone. Had she even been there? "I don't know."

Matt gave him a long look. "You don't know?" he echoed.

Buddy shrugged. "I thought I saw something."

"Or someone?" Matt suggested.

Buddy nodded, but before he could say anything else, Ava reappeared. "You must be Matthew Trakker," she exclaimed. "Mac told me a lot about both you and your brother. I'm glad to finally meet you."

Matt smiled. "Ava; please, call me Matt."

Ava mustered a watery smile. "Matt, then. There's going to be a wake, at Joe's; you're both welcome to come."

Buddy shot Matt a panicked look. He hadn't even considered the possibility of a wake. The thought of that terrified him in a way that even the funeral hadn't. At a wake he'd have to talk to the other mourners, many of whom would know he'd been there when Mac had been shot. If he blamed himself, what would they do?

"I think that may not be a good idea," said Matt.

Ava nodded. "I thought you might say that; but I had to ask." She smiled faintly. "We'll keep in touch," she promised. "I'll see you both soon."

Buddy watched as she turned and walked away to where her husband and family were waiting. "Let's go home."

* * *

It was a mainly silent journey back to the mansion. Matt seemed wrapped up in his thoughts, which suited Buddy nicely. Had Vanessa really been there? It had been such a quick sighting and she'd vanished so fast he couldn't help but wonder if he'd simply imagined her presence.

He wasn't sure which he wanted to hope for, either.

"So, who did you think you see?" Matt asked suddenly as he pulled into the mansion's drive.

Buddy sighed. "I'm not even sure I really saw her."

"Vanessa, huh?" Matt guessed knowingly.

"Yeah."

"I'll check with Duane; see if we have any information about where she is."

"Will he know?"

"He might," Matt answered pulling past the mansion's main entry. "The problem we have is we've got no easy way of getting intelligence on what VENOM's plans are, except through established agencies, and they just don't see VENOM as a high priority problem right now."

"Why not?"

"Because, at least so far, VENOM hasn't done anything to put our national security at risk." Matt snorted. "At least, not that I can prove."

Buddy winced. "I see."

There was silence between them for a few minutes as Matt drove Thunderhawk into the parking garage. At the back of Buddy's mind, a solution – at least, a partial one – to the problem of gaining information about VENOM's activities presented itself to him. Duane would hate it. Then again, Duane didn't trust him. The real question was, what would Matt think of it?

"Is there something else?" Matt asked as they got out of the car.

Buddy swallowed. _What's the worst that could happen?_ "I, I might be able to help."

There was an electric pause. Matt slowly turned to face him. "Help?" he echoed.

Buddy found himself blushing furiously, though he stuck to his guns: "I know people. People who'd know. Or who'd have heard things."

"People like Enzo diFontana?" Matt suggested.

It was Buddy's turn to be surprised. "You know Enzo?"

"Only by reputation."

"Oh." Buddy shrugged. "But yeah; people like Enzo."

"Hm." Matt leaned on Thunderhawk's roof, looking thoughtful. "Duane won't like it."

"Figured that."

Matt grinned. "Then again, what Duane doesn't know won't hurt him. All right." He nodded. "See what you can come up with."

* * *

Enzo diFontana was the owner of a "commercial goods exchange" set back a little from the main downtown shopping area. It did a modest trade, mostly from the numerous college students in the area, but it the business served another purpose: Enzo was the best fence of stolen goods and hot property this side of the Rockies and his shop enabled him to off load some of the goods he was asked to handle.

On the occasions Buddy had been successful in picking someone's pocket, or when he and Vanessa had made a successful heist, it had been Enzo who helped them dispose of whatever they'd stolen. As he pulled into a parking spot just opposite Enzo's shop, Buddy smirked. There had been a lot of times he and Vanessa had been here to offload loot. In fact, he decided, this was probably the first time he'd ever been to the shop without that excuse.

Crossing the street, Buddy entered the shop. It was as cluttered as ever. Ancient televisions were stacked next to record players; musical instruments and paintings hung from various hooks around the walls; display cases were crammed with items of jewellery and collectible china. How anyone ever found anything, much less Enzo himself, was a mystery to Buddy.

Buddy picked his way carefully through the store, making for the shop counter and the beaded curtain that led to Enzo's back room. Seated at the counter was a girl of about his own age. She was chewing gum and her eyes had a glazed look to them that suggested she hadn't even noticed Buddy's entrance into the shop. _Sure hope she's not supposed to be keeping an eye on the merchandise!_ he decided, grinning.

He reached the counter and stopped. "Is Enzo here?" he asked.

The girl blinked slowly and refocused her gaze on him. "Who wants to know?"

Buddy's grin widened. "I'm an old friend."

The girl snorted. "And I'm Marilyn Monroe. Either gimme a name or---"

"Buddy!"

Looking beyond the girl, Buddy saw Enzo appear through the curtain. He was not a tall man – point of fact, Buddy could over look him by a good couple of inches – but what he lacked in height he made up for in both width and personality.

Buddy chuckled, more at the girl's disgusted response than anything else. "Enzo; good to see you."

Enzo smiled in response. "Michelle, this is Buddy Hawks – he's an old friend of mine."

The girl, Michelle, looked thoroughly under whelmed.

"C'mon through," Enzo continued, gesturing to the curtain. "I just made some coffee. We can catch up." Enzo paused and gave Buddy a significant look. "I been hearing all kindsa stuff about you lately."

"I just bet," Buddy agreed.

He followed Enzo into the back room, which was a near mirror of the main shop. It was marginally less cluttered, but it did contain the same wild range of junk as the main shop, with the addition of a battered couch, a fridge, a coffee machine and an enormous bag of coffee beans.

"Have a seat," Enzo directed as he poured two cups of rich Italian coffee. "Just like mama used to make," he declared, handing over one of the cups. "None of that freeze dried crap!"

Buddy laughed as he sat down on the couch. "Life's too short to grind your own beans every day, Enzo."

Enzo just snorted. "So," he said, sitting down himself. "What brings you down to my humble shop? From what I've been hearing, I wasn't expecting you to darken my doorway again. Pity in some ways," he added reflectively. "You were good, very good, but anyone could see it was a waste of talent."

Buddy rolled his eyes. "Next thing you'll tell me is you taught me all I know."

"Well I did," said Enzo, "at least about picking pockets. The mechanic shit, though? You're on your own with that!"

Buddy laughed. "You know I'd have come down here to see you sooner or later, Enzo. You're still a friend, whatever else's happened. It'd have been sooner, but life's been crazy."

Enzo smiled sympathetically. "So I've heard."

There was a moment of silence. Buddy sipped his coffee and debated how to broach the reason behind this visit.

"Something tells me," Enzo observed, "that this ain't what you might call a social visit now."

Guiltily, Buddy shook his head. "I'm looking for information."

"Go on."

After another hesitation, Buddy shrugged. No sense in beating about the bush; Enzo probably already had a good idea what he was going to ask anyway. "What do you know about VENOM?"

To Buddy's surprise, Enzo pursed his lips in a silent whistle. "Still playin' with the big boys, are ya?" he asked. "Piece of advice, Buddy: Walk way now, before y'get burned."

"Too late for that."

"Vanessa, right?"

Even knowing how well connected to the grapevine Enzo was, that surprised Buddy. "How did you know that?"

Enzo snorted. "Buddy; you and Vanessa were two of the biggest names on the scene. Her joining VENOM was **big** news and that you and she didn't agree about it---" Enzo shook his head. "Throw in the rumour that you'd gone legit and the fact that Miles Mayhem was tearing the place apart looking for you two weeks ago and you've got the whole damn town in uproar, my friend."

Buddy stared for a second. "How the hell many people did Mayhem threaten to get to me?"

Enzo shrugged. "He's a big fish; this is a small pond."

"I am so gonna kick his ass when I get the chance."

Enzo shook his head again. "You're playin' with fire, Buddy."

"He had Mac Stevens murdered, Enzo; the cops here still think I did it or I was involved and that is so far from the truth---"

"You don't need to tell me," said Enzo cutting the reply off. "Buddy, I know you. The only time you get violent is when someone you love is threatened. And you know what worries me? You're gonna go after Mayhem because of Mac and because of Vanessa."

"So?"

"So I think you're gonna come off worst."

"Are you gonna tell me what I want to know or am I gonna go see Juan and the boys over at the Sundown?" Buddy snapped.

There was a long moment of silence. Then, quietly, Enzo said: "What do you want to know?"

"Is Vanessa in town?"

Enzo sighed. "Yes."

"When did she arrive?"

"I don't know." Buddy opened his mouth to protest, but Enzo fixed him with a glare. "I think it was Sunday night, but she's always kept a pretty low profile and her new friends have got a profile lower than a snake with a hat on."

Buddy digested that information. "So you don't know why they're here?"

"No, and given the goons involved, I don't want to know either."

Buddy stood up. "Thanks for the coffee," he said, setting the empty cup down on top of the fridge.

"You're going?"

One statement, it covered a multitude of different questions. Buddy managed a faint smile. "I'm not suicidal, Enzo. I ain't goin' up against them on my own. There's other folks involved."

For possibly the first time in his life, Buddy saw something very close to genuine surprise cross Enzo's face. "Talk about low profile," he muttered.

Buddy broke into a grin. "Yeah."

"I'm still gonna worry," Enzo pointed out.

"I'll be OK. And, hey," Buddy added, making for the beaded curtain, "next time, I'll grind the coffee beans."

Enzo chuckled. "You do that." His laughter died away. "Take care, Buddy."

Buddy paused at the curtain. "See you soon, Enzo."

* * *

"That's all he knew?"

It was late in the day and Buddy had joined Matt and Alex for an impromptu planning session in Matt's dining room. He had just finished relating what Enzo had said. He now shrugged at Alex, who had asked the question. "Enzo would have said if he was holding anything back."

"It ties with what Duane told me," said Matt. "So, I guess we know for certain they're here. The big question is, why?"

"Purely for Mac's funeral?" Buddy speculated.

Alex shook his head. "I suspect, Buddy, that was just fortunate happenstance where Vanessa was concerned."

"There's nothing on in town that would be VENOM's style," Matt mused. "No art displays, nothing scheduled to come through town en-route elsewhere and as far as I can tell, UC isn't conducting any research they'd be interested in, so I can't see any reason why VENOM would be here."

"Even if we knew, Matthew," countered Alex, "I'm not sure there's anything we could do. We're not ready yet."

Matt grimaced. "In Duane's opinion we are. He made us officially operational this afternoon."

Buddy watched as Alex's jaw dropped open. "He did what?" exclaimed the Englishman in stunned tones.

Matt spread his hands in a wide shrug. "VENOM's last stunt, in LA, upped the ante and other security agencies are still not taking them seriously." He sighed. "I don't like it, but we're just gonna have to find a way to be ready. And that means figuring out why VENOM are here and what they're up to."

"Without a little bit more to go on, Matthew, I think we're stumped," said Alex frankly.

From the expression on Matt's face, he'd already come to that conclusion, but hated admitting it.

"There's other people I can talk to," Buddy offered.

"Are they likely to know more than Enzo?" Matt asked.

Buddy shrugged. "Won't know until I ask them." He smiled wryly. "Gotta be worth a shot."

Matt scrubbed a hand over his face. "All right, do it." He shook his head. "And Buddy, be careful?"

* * *

The following morning, as Buddy worked on the brakes of a battered looking jeep, most of his mind was occupied by the question of what VENOM was doing in Boulder.

The best information he'd been able to come up with from his second trip into town had come from the denizens of the Sundown bar, who'd heard rumours of someone fitting Mayhem's description taking over one of the disused office buildings not far from Mac's shop. That told them **where** to find VENOM, but it gave them no clue as to **why** VENOM had come to town in the first place.

There had to be something that they were all missing, Buddy decided, something obvious. He smiled wryly. Of course, why he thought **he** would spot what Matt and Alex hadn't was a mystery to him, but it was a puzzle his mind refused to let go of.

As he lifted off the old brake disc, which had been worn down almost to the point of uselessness, Buddy heard someone pull onto the gas station's forecourt. Although Earl was out there and ready to deal with anyone wanting service, he listened with half an ear, just in case he was going to be needed as well.

"Earl, good morning." The English tones belonged to Alex. "May I introduce Bruce Sato; he's going to be working for Matthew."

"Nice to meet you," Earl answered.

"An honour," said an accented voice.

Buddy guessed that belonged to the Bruce guy. He frowned. Why was Alex bringing this guy here? He fitted the new disc and started to replace the calliper.

"If you don't mind," Alex continued, "we're going to steal your mechanic for an hour or so."

That made Buddy pause. What the heck did Alex need him for?

Then came a second surprise: "Sure," said Earl. "Though, if you go in and find he's half way through doing a brake disc---"

"Oh, we can wait for him to finish what he's doing," Alex agreed, chuckling.

Buddy blinked. What the heck was going on? He sighed and shook his head. _Guess I'll find out in a second,_ he decided, fixing the last clip. He stood up just as Alex, Earl and a third man – Bruce, Buddy realised – entered the garage.

"You've done this side?" Earl asked.

"Just finished," said Buddy. "Haven't tested it yet, though."

Earl smiled. "Don't worry 'bout it, kid; Alex, he's all yours."

Some of Buddy's confusion must have shown on his face because Alex's first words were, "No need to look quite so worried, Buddy. This is Bruce Sato – Bruce, this is our vehicle specialist, Buddy Hawks."

Bruce reached out expectantly. Buddy hesitated, then rubbed his hand against his thigh, removing the worst of the grease and brake fluid, and reached out to shake. "Nice to meet you; sorry 'bout the mess."

Bruce just grinned. "Not a problem," he insisted. "An honour to meet you."

Buddy doubted that, but he smiled anyway.

"Gentlemen, this way," directed Alex, pointing to a door at the back of the workshop.

Buddy had noticed the door before and assumed that it led to a supplies closet or some storage space. As Alex opened it now, though, he discovered he couldn't have been more wrong. Behind the door was a set of grey concrete stairs leading down. _What the heck?_

"See you later, Earl," Alex called as he started down the stairs.

Given little choice, Buddy followed Alex and Bruce down the stairs and then through a security door at the bottom. There, Buddy stopped dead in surprise. He was standing at the start of a well-lit, white-painted hallway. Off each side he could see smooth steel doors, which gave the place a vaguely antiseptic feel. The sheer number of doors and the length of the hallway suggested that the whole complex was huge.

Buddy's only consolation was that at least he wasn't the only person confused. Beside him, Bruce looked deeply puzzled.

"What is this place?" Bruce asked.

"It used to be a silver mine," Alex answered.

That made sense, Buddy decided. It certainly explained the basic shape.

"And now?" Bruce persisted.

"Welcome to MASK headquarters," said Alex, amusement on his face. "Since we're operational now, Matthew asked me to show you both around. He'd do it himself, but he's had to go to Denver this morning. This way, chaps."

"You didn't know this was here?" Bruce asked.

Buddy shrugged. "I figured the door led to a closet."

Bruce nodded. "Hidden in plain sight. What better place?"

Buddy eyed the Japanese man curiously and wondered what he'd been hired for.

"These rooms here," Alex said with a wave of his hand, "are bunk rooms and living quarters. We don't expect them to be used much," and here Alex grinned, "but we know people can end up absorbed in their work."

Buddy blushed. That comment was directed at him. A few nights earlier, he'd been working on Condor until the not-so-small hours of the morning, having lost track of the time. Sarah had made some extremely pointed remarks about it and Buddy'd resolved to make sure it didn't happen again! Bruce looked enquiring. Buddy just shook his head.

"Then," Alex continued, kindly ignoring Buddy's discomfort, "this is the piece that will interest you, Bruce." The older man palmed the door open.

The room behind the door reminded Buddy of a school science lab, except it had far more computers and instruments than any lab he'd ever been in. Bruce looked a little like a kid in a candy store.

"This is where I will work?" he asked.

"In the main," agreed Alex. "And if there's anything that you need, just let me know."

Bruce smiled. "It looks most comprehensive. Thank you."

Alex grinned in response and palmed the door shut again. "One more place to show you, then we'll have to let Buddy get back to work."

"Oh, don't rush 'cause of me," said Buddy. "I hate fixing brakes."

Alex laughed as they continued on along the hallway. "Sorry, Buddy. I did promise Earl I was only going to steal you for an hour."

Buddy shrugged.

"You do not enjoy your job?" Bruce enquired.

"Oh, it has its moments," Buddy answered. "Thing is, though, fixing brakes is messy even by my standards."

"Ah," said Bruce sagely.

"Through here, chaps," Alex directed, palming open another door.

This doorway led to a much larger room than the electronics lab, although at first glance it didn't look all that different to Buddy. Three of the walls were lined with computer equipment, while a giant television screen filled the fourth. The rest of the room was mainly taken up by a circular table with eight seats placed around its edge.

He exchanged a glance with Bruce, and asked, "So what is this place?"

"MASK's nerve centre," Alex replied. "It's the briefing room. It's also the place the team will assemble when it's summoned."

"Small team," observed Bruce.

"But exceptionally talented," said Alex.

"Summoned?" queried Buddy. "How?"

Here, Alex grinned. "Are you wearing your birthday present?"

Not for the first time, Buddy wondered just which higher power he might have offended to have met someone as clearly insane as Alex. "My what?"

"The watch."

For answer, Buddy pushed the left sleeve of his coverall up to reveal the digital watch.

Alex smiled. "Good. I strongly advice you not to leave home without it from now on."

Buddy and Bruce exchanged another look, but before either of them could ask the obvious question, Alex turned to face one of the banks of computers. He pushed a button on the console, then said: "Computer, summon Agent Hawks."

Buddy barely had a chance to comprehend that Agent Hawks probably meant him before the watch started bleeping and, disconcertingly, vibrating too.

"The big button beneath the time display acknowledges the call," said Alex, "and turns off the alarm."

Gratefully, Buddy pushed the button and sighed in relief as the electronic bleeping and vibrations cut out.

"When that happens," began Bruce, "we assemble here?" Alex nodded. "Instantly?"

"Well, as quickly as you safely can," Alex temporised. "You don't have to try and rewrite the laws of physics!"

Bruce nodded once. "I see."

"How do we get in?" Buddy asked.

"Excellent question," Alex answered. "There are three entrances in total. One is a direct link from here to the Trakker Mansion; Matt will show you that in due course. One is the door we came in via this morning and one is through a cave roughly one hundred yards along the road from the gas station."

Buddy frowned. He knew that stretch of road well. "There ain't a cave there."

"A hidden entry?" asked Bruce. "How?"

"Holograms," Alex answered succinctly. "I'll show you exactly how in a moment. Buddy; you'd probably better get back to work before Earl sends a search party."

"Yeah," Buddy agreed. "Figure I can use the door from the garage to get in here, right?" Alex nodded. "What's the code?"

Alex smiled. "As long as you're wearing your watch, you won't need one. Just hold the watch up to the security pad."

Buddy shot Alex a dubious look, but as outlandish as the suggestion sounded, the Englishman did seem to be serious. "All right," he finally answered. "Guess I'll see you later."

As Alex nodded, Buddy headed out of the briefing room and jogged back along the corridor, towards the security door and the garage. When he emerged in the workshop, he wasn't surprised to see the jeep had gone.

"You're back?" Earl enquired as Buddy closed the door.

"Unless something comes up."

Earl nodded. "Well, if you're through being super-spy for now, I need you to cover the pumps. I haveta go see Moses Abrahams about an order of parts he still ain't delivered."

Buddy just barely held back a grimace. He hated keeping an eye on the forecourt and actually serving gas customers. Which Earl knew. Was this Earl's way of getting even for his vanishing earlier?

Earl, for his part, just grinned. "I'll see you in an hour or so." And he departed, leaving Buddy with the sudden and irrational desire to have VENOM actually do something to get him out of the tedium!

* * *

An hour later and Buddy found that one of his assumptions about serving the customers had been wrong. He'd previously figured it was tedious because of the station not having been particularly busy. He now discovered it was worse when it was busy.

Every motorist in the Boulder area seemed to want to buy gas from the station, and Buddy found himself rushing around to such an extent that it wasn't until someone giggled and said, "Busy morning, huh?" that he realised two things: Firstly, the queue of customers had finally shrunk down to just one individual. Secondly, that individual was Sarah Trakker.

Buddy blinked and shook his head. "You wouldn't believe."

Sarah giggled again. "You look a little fried," she agreed. "Where's Earl any way?"

"Gone to see Moses about some parts," Buddy replied, starting to fill the tank of the powder-blue chevy. "Hey, Scott," he added, spotting the toddler firmly strapped into his car seat.

Scott offered a beaming grin and babbled some nonsense.

"I have to go into town to deal with Matt's speeding fines and Scott needs some new shoes. So I figured I'd combine the trips." She grinned ruefully. "I may regret this."

"Matt got caught speeding?" Buddy boggled.

"Twice," said Sarah.

"What did they catch him with, airborne radar?"

Sarah laughed.

The gas pump cut out, bringing Buddy back to what he was supposed to be doing. "That's fifteen bucks."

Sarah handed him a twenty. "Keep the change and buy some lunch," she advised.

"Yes ma'am." Was this what it was like having a mom, he wondered.

"See you later," Sarah called as she drove away.

Buddy turned for the shop, only to hear the service bell ding again. Turning back, though, he was relieved to see that it was only Earl returning.

"All right kid; go get some lunch," he directed. "You look like you could use some."

Buddy just laughed.

* * *

The rest of the day proved to be rather less manic, much to Buddy's relief. Sure, he did have to deal with the service job from hell, in the shape of a Pontiac so rusted he couldn't tell what colour it had originally been, but that was beginning to be part of the routine at the service station.

"You OK to close up?" Earl asked as the day's final customer drove away. "I need to get goin'."

Buddy grinned. "Sure."

Earl smiled. "Thanks, kid. See you tomorrow."

"You got it."

As Earl headed home, Buddy crossed to the gas station's sign and gratefully turned it off. Anyone showed up now, he could safely ignore them. He headed back into the workshop and cleared away the tools and made sure everything was tidy.

As he locked the last tool cabinet, he glanced around the workshop to make sure there was nothing else lying around. There wasn't. _Time to go._

But as he reached out to flip the light switch off, his watch started to bleep. Buddy slowly looked down at the noisy device. _Oh shit._

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

With many thanks to Ganeris, Nessa, Beth and Angel for editing, feedback and patient hand holding. Extra thanks to Jonath for specific help with one particular scene - I couldn't have done it without you; thank you!

* * *

What It Takes

Three

When Buddy arrived at the briefing room, slightly breathless from having run the length of the hallway, he found that Matt, Alex, Bruce and a large black man who Buddy had never met before were already there. For just a moment, he wondered if this had been some kind of drill – and if it had been, had he failed it? – but then he saw the expressions on the faces of the others and he felt the bottom of his stomach drop.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Better take a seat, Buddy," said Alex quietly, gesturing to one of the empty seats at the table.

Buddy sat, now fearing the worst. Was it Vanessa? Had she done something?

"At about half past five this afternoon," began Matt quietly, "I got a telephone call. The caller was female – I don't recognise her voice." He paused. "I'm guessing you will, Buddy."

Then, before Buddy could say anything, Matt pushed the play back button on the voice recorder on the table.

_"Matt Trakker?"_

"Yes; who is this?"

"We have your wife and son. Our demands are simple. You give us five million dollars, you get them back. Do anything else and you will never see them alive again. You have six hours to decide."

The click of the recorder being switched off echoed in the briefing room and Buddy suddenly found himself the focus of attention.

"Is it her?" asked Alex. "Is it Vanessa?"

Reluctantly, Buddy nodded. "It's her."

"How sure are you?" the black man asked.

Buddy looked at him. "I've known her 'most all my life; I'm sure."

The black man smiled faintly and made a placatory gesture with his hands. "It's OK, kid; but we need to be totally sure it's VENOM before we jump in with both feet."

"Then be sure," Buddy retorted. "It's Vanessa."

"Is this to do with MASK?" Bruce asked. "Or is it something else?"

"Something else, I'd say," said Alex.

"Mayhem and I have history," said Matt. "He also figures me for an easy target."

The black man snorted. "He never did know you well."

Matt shrugged. "He knows me well enough, Hondo." He rubbed his face with his hands. "The way he'll see it, I have two choices. I can go to the cops with what I know or I can pay up, and he's going to be betting I won't risk the cops."

"You can't be seriously thinking paying him off!" The black man, Hondo, sounded incredulous.

"That's just it, Hondo old chap," said Alex. "Although Vanessa didn't come out and say it, the threat is obvious: If Matthew takes this matter to the police, Sarah and Scott are as good as dead."

"But that's where option three comes in," Hondo answered, "the option that Mayhem doesn't know you've got, Matt." Hondo grinned wolfishly. "Us."

There was a long pause. Then Matt finally nodded. "Yeah. That's option three."

"Do we know where they are being held?" Bruce enquired.

"Well we know where VENOM are based," said Buddy quietly.

"That's a pretty good place to start," Hondo mused.

"If they're there," said Alex. "I hate to be a wet blanket, but---"

"This is Miles Mayhem we're talking," Hondo cut in. "Even if Matt pays, you don't really think that he's just going to let Sarah and Scott go?"

Alex grimaced. "No," he agreed. "I don't. I also don't think that storming Mayhem's base of operations is going to get us any further forward."

"I'm not going to do anything that would jeopardise Sarah and Scott's lives," said Matt quietly. As much as option three is tempting, it won't work, Hondo."

Hondo snarled in general frustration. "Then why have you got us here?"

Matt mustered a faint smile. "I'm kinda hoping we can come up with a fourth way."

"There are more ways of storming a castle than by knocking on its front door," Bruce observed.

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Hondo said, "Is it me or did that just make no sense?"

"Nope," said Buddy, "it's not just you."

To Buddy's surprise, though, Matt actually cracked a faint smile. "Bruce just means that attacking doesn't always have to mean a full frontal assault. Right, Bruce?"

Bruce nodded. "Exactly so."

Buddy wondered why Bruce hadn't just simply said that.

"What are you suggesting?" Alex asked.

Bruce didn't answer directly. Instead he turned to look straight at Buddy. "You know the VENOM base?"

Buddy shrugged a little. "I know where it is and I know what it's like inside." At the bemused looks from Alex and Hondo, he added sheepishly, "I slept there a coupla times. Before VENOM took it over."

Matt looked as if he was revising an already low opinion of the children's home; Hondo's eyebrows seemed to have reached his hairline, while Alex simply shook his head. Buddy shrugged awkwardly. At least Bruce didn't seem to be passing judgement.

"Then," Bruce continued, "is there a way to gain entry other than the front door?"

Buddy nodded. "Loading dock out back. The yard's overlooked but full of junk, and the dock itself's blind. Unless they've done anything to the yard to secure it, it oughta be easy enough to get someone across it."

Hondo shook his head. "Mayhem's smart. He won't have left us a nice little back door to sneak in through. At the very least, he's gonna have someone guarding the dock."

"But why should he?" argued Alex. "He knows Matthew won't do anything to risk Sarah and Scott getting hurt and even if Matthew was prepared to try a rescue on his own, as far as Mayhem knows, Matthew has no clue where the base is."

"I'll give you that," said Hondo, nodding, "but this is Miles 'paranoid is my middle name' Mayhem we're talking about."

"We could stage a distraction," Bruce suggested. "Something that would pull the guard away from the loading dock."

Matt shook his head. "Too risky. Too much chance of Mayhem deciding to push up the schedule."

"And there is the danger that Mayhem is holding Sarah and Scott somewhere else," said Alex.

"Guard or no guard, I can get in." Once again, Buddy found himself the subject of everyone's gaze.

"Is this some other entrance you know about?" Alex asked.

Buddy shook his head. "Nope; it's through the loading dock."

"But we've just agreed there's gonna be some kind of security measures there," said Hondo. "No offence, kid, but what makes you think that you can get round them, and a guard? Without knowing what the measures are, I sure as shit couldn't, and I've had ten years in the US special forces."

Buddy smiled. "Buddy Hawks can't," he agreed. "Sly Rax can."

For several seconds, no-one said anything.

"What?" said Alex.

"Who?" said Bruce.

"How?" said Hondo.

All three questions came at once and in varying tones of confusion. It was left to Matt to manage a coherent question: "What do you mean, Buddy?"

Buddy took a deep breath. "I can impersonate Sly Rax. I can get into the VENOM base without getting caught."

"What do you mean by impersonate?" Alex asked sceptically.

In response, Buddy slouched in his seat to mimic Rax's lazy posture and drawled, "I mean I can **be** him so good even his own mother wouldn't tell."

Alex's jaw hinged open. "My God that is uncanny," he mumbled. "And disconcerting."

"Yeah; cut that out!" Hondo begged. "You've made your point, kid."

Buddy grinned and straightened in his seat. "Sorry," he offered, speaking in his natural voice again.

Matt shook his head. "Don't be, Buddy. That's quite some talent."

"How long can you keep it up?" Hondo asked.

Buddy shrugged. "As long as we need."

"Then," said Bruce, "perhaps we have a plan?"

Matt nodded. "It's got a few holes, but we can fill them."

Buddy slowly pushed to his feet. "If we're gonna do this, if I'm gonna do this, I need to get ready."

"What do you need?" Hondo asked.

"Just some hair dye," Buddy answered, grinning faintly. "I have everything else."

Matt looked amused. "Should I ask?"

Buddy thought about Vanessa's insistence over the make-up kit and shook his head. "It's a long story."

From Matt's expression, Buddy judged the older man had probably figured that long story out, though all he said was, "All right; let's get to work. Buddy, we'll meet you back at the mansion."

Buddy nodded. "You got it."

* * *

The hair dye proved to be harder to find than Buddy had hoped. The nearest drug store only carried permanent dyes, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with black hair until it had grown out. The next couple he tried had already closed for the evening, but just when he was beginning to think he was completely out of luck, He found a branch of Rite Aide that was not only open, but that carried a wide variety of hair dyes, including a couple of shelves of different colour rinses. That was more like it.

Buddy grabbed a couple of packets of black and a couple of packets that were a shade somewhere close to his natural colour as a precaution, just in case the black didn't quite wash out as the instructions promised. _Sure as heck don't want to raise any questions tomorrow,_ he decided as he made his way to the counter.

The girl at the counter lifted a curious eyebrow at the four packets of hair dye, but didn't make a comment. Buddy simply shrugged, handed over the money and started back to the mansion.

As he drove, Buddy carefully went over every meeting he'd ever had with Rax. The voice and the posture were easy enough, but it was the little details that could trip him up. _Never thought I'd ever wish for a photo of Rax,_ he mused as he pulled into the mansion's drive. Despite that lack, though, he was reasonably sure he had most of the relevant details down. The hardest part would be Rax's tendency to wear stubble. He'd always claimed it was a goatee beard, though Buddy had never been convinced. He shook his head as he climbed out of Firecracker. He'd have cross that bridge as he came to it.

Glancing at his watch, Buddy noted it was almost seven o'clock. The deadline for Matt's decision was just over four hours away. He swallowed. Just over four hours left. There was no time left to waste worrying about it; he just had to get on and do it. With that thought uppermost in his mind, he jogged up from the parking garage to his apartment.

He'd already looked at the colour rinse instructions when he'd picked them up in Rite Aid; he now double-checked them as he hastily shed his workday clothes. _Use like shampoo. Wait five minutes. Rinse clear._ It was easy enough. Picking up the two black packets, Buddy headed into the bathroom and dumped them onto the counter, then climbed into the shower. Before he even thought about using the colour rinse, he needed to make sure he'd washed off as much of the oil and gas fumes as he could.

* * *

Buddy was just finishing the final rinse process when there was a knock on the apartment door.

"It's open," he called.

"How's it going?" Hondo answered.

Buddy blinked. He'd expected his visitor to be Matt. "About half done," he replied. "Give me a second."

He finished rinsing his hair and roughly towelled it dry, then, wrapping a second towel around his waist, he padded out of the bathroom and pulled out a pair of jeans that Vanessa had picked out for him on their joint shopping expedition. They were one of the few items of clothing he'd bought that day that he hadn't worn since, in large part because they felt as if they'd been spray painted on. Vanessa had insisted they'd looked good, though, and had snuck them back into the pile of clothing to be bought when he hadn't been looking.

He now thanked his stars she'd done that. They weren't his style, but they were Rax to perfection.

He pulled them on and pitched the towel in the direction of the bathroom then, collecting the makeup kit and his comb, he headed into the apartment's main room, where Hondo had made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs.

"Jesus!" Hondo exclaimed. "That's creepy."

Buddy grinned. "You ain't seen nothing yet." He set the makeup kit and comb down on the desk and turned back to the bedroom. "So what's the plan?"

Hondo's voice followed him: "How soon can you be ready?"

"Half an hour or so."

"Good. Plan is, you and me are gonna go to VENOM's hideout as soon as you're ready. Matt wasn't hot on the idea of you going alone. He figured some backup was a good idea."

Buddy pulled on a dark coloured t-shirt. "Backup's good."

"Meantime, Alex and Bruce are figuring out some kind of distraction, in case it's needed."

Grabbing a small shaving mirror from the bathroom, Buddy headed back to the living area. "What's Matt gonna do?"

"Wait here," Hondo replied. "We figured VENOM would smell a rat if he wasn't here the next time they called."

"I guess." Buddy sat down at the desk and positioned the mirror so that he could easily see what he was doing. "That's gotta hurt, though." He combed his hair, slicking most of it straight back but leaving enough to form a fringe.

"Yeah," Hondo agreed. "But he trusts you, and me."

From one of the desk drawers, Buddy extracted a pair of scissors and trimmed the ends of the fringe until they were no longer in his eyes. "That's kinda scary."

"You get used to it, kid." Hondo paused. "That ain't gonna be straight when your hair dries."

"That's the idea." Buddy grinned. "Trust me."

"OK." Hondo shrugged. "I guess you know what you're doing."

Satisfied with his efforts, he turned his attention to the make up kit. From it he extracted the bottle of spirit gum, the scar wax and the basic foundation. He pinched off a small piece of wax and shaped it into a thin, lengthy scar. Once that was ready, he applied the foundation makeup to his face, covering up the various minor blemishes that he'd acquired, and then painted a narrow strip of spirit gum down the left hand side of his face. He brushed the back of the wax piece with spirit gum and fixed the scar to his face.

"Evil looking scar," Hondo observed.

"Rax's face met a window," Buddy answered, brushing down the edges of the ersatz scar with more spirit gum. "Fifty-fifty about which got off worst."

Hondo winced. "Messy."

"Yeah." Buddy put the spirit gum and wax back into the kit and took out the face powder and a brush. "He was kinda lucky."

"Oh?"

"Vanessa and I were with him and got him to the ER." Buddy lightly dabbed the edges of the fake scar with powder, blending them in better. "Sorta wish I hadn't bothered now."

Hondo made no comment.

Putting the powder and brush back, Buddy removed the black cake makeup and a wire sponge. Catching Hondo's startled look in the mirror, Buddy said, "Rax wears stubble." He dabbed the sponge onto the makeup and then applied it to his throat and chin. "If I'd know about this when I got up---" He stopped. "Shit, if I'd known what they were planning, I'd have stopped Sarah from going into town."

"Youda had to beat Matt to it," said Hondo.

"Yeah." Buddy looked at himself in the mirror. Rax stared back in all but expression – Rax never looked quite this worried or nervous. He swallowed and schooled his expression into something that matched Rax's normal sneer, then turned to face Hondo. "Ready when you are."

Hondo pursed his lips in a silent whistle. "Yeah, I'd say you are." He shook his head and smiled predatorily. "All right, kid; let's go ruin Miles Mayhem's day."

* * *

Buddy parked Firecracker a couple of blocks away from the office building VENOM were using as their base.

"Kid, you drive like my grandma," Hondo observed, amused.

"So I drive slow." Buddy shrugged. "Beats arriving in pieces."

Hondo tipped his head back and laughed. "Touché."

"Besides, Firecracker still needs some work. Right now, she's got a whole lotta quirks."

"Guess it's true, huh?"

Buddy turned a puzzled gaze on Hondo. "What is?"

"Mechanics never get round to fixing their own cars."

Buddy rolled his eyes. "You wanna walk?" Wisely, Hondo didn't answer that. Instead, he reached for his bag and opened it. Curiosity got the better of Buddy. "What's in there?"

Hondo pulled out a weird helmet-thing and exhibited it to Buddy. "Backup," he said.

Buddy looked at it for a moment. "Backup's normally a gun."

Hondo grinned wolfishly. "Trust me, kid, this is better than a gun." He pulled the thing on. "Ready?"

Buddy sighed. It was worrying, he decided, that he seemed to be the sanest person he knew. "As I'll ever be."

"You'll be fine, kid," Hondo answered. "C'mon."

Buddy climbed out of Firecracker and followed Hondo through the shadowed streets to an alley way just opposite the entry to the vehicle yard of the VENOM base. From there, they had a good view across to the loading dock.

"No guard," Hondo murmured. "That's good. There's so much junk in that yard though. Wait---" Hondo paused. "There's someone coming out of the building."

Buddy looked and a slow smile spread across his face. "Whaddya know."

* * *

Rax vaulted down from the loading dock and started out across the vehicle yard, cursing Vanessa and Mayhem blind. Why was he the one who had to get supplies? Surely it should have been Vanessa's job as the newest member of the team; instead, in two short weeks, she'd become Mayhem's favourite who could do no wrong. Rax curled his lip in disgust. _Bitch,_ he decided. _She'll learn her place though, if I have to teach her it myself._

He started to plan just exactly how he was going to teach Vanessa the lesson she needed and became wrapped up in his thoughts. So much so that when another Rax stepped out of an alley way just beyond the entry to the vehicle yard, it took him several seconds to comprehend what he was seeing.

"Hi," said the other Rax.

Rax stared, disconcerted. Not only did the other Rax look like him; he sounded like him too. "What is this? Some kinda joke?"

The other Rax smirked. "No joke; you're just gonna take a nice little sleep. Right about--- Now."

Rax opened his mouth to argue the point, only to feel something solid hitting the back of his head. There was a brief moment of pain, then everything went dark and weird doppelgangers ceased to be his problem.

* * *

"Guess that's what you call a happy accident," Hondo murmured.

"Not for him," Buddy answered, an unfriendly grin on his face. He crouched over the felled Rax and started to undo the biker's boots. "Give me a hand a second."

"What are you doing?" Hondo asked.

"Completing the disguise," Buddy answered. "And probably pissing him off too, but that's just a bonus."

"You don't like him a whole bunch," Hondo observed.

Buddy snorted. "Not much." He tugged the boots off, removed his own ratty sneakers and pulled the stolen boots on in their place. "Now the jacket."

Hondo helped him to remove the jacket. "What do you want me to do with him?"

Buddy shrugged into the jacket. "Don't suppose you'd figure dropping him in the river was a good plan?" Despite the fact that Buddy couldn't see Hondo's eyes behind the helmet-thing, he got the impression the black man was rolling his eyes. "Thought not."

"There a police station down here?" Hondo asked.

Buddy shook his head. "Nearest one's six blocks north of here."

"Then I'll figure something out. You'd better get goin' kid." Hondo hesitated. "Good luck."

Buddy smiled. "Thanks."

He took a deep breath and set out for the loading dock, taking care to emulate Rax's lazy swagger. This was the first challenge: Would he trigger any security devices? In amongst the junk, he saw the flashing red diodes that indicated working security cameras, but nothing else indicated he'd even been seen and he reached the dock without any problem.

That was the first hurdle crossed. He vaulted up onto the dock and made his way into the building. Not far from the entry he ran across the first of the VENOM operatives staffing the base, but she took no notice of him. Inwardly, at least, Buddy smiled. Good. That meant she'd bought it. Feeling a little more confident, he continued into the building.

_If I was Mayhem, where would I keep two prisoners?_ Buddy wondered. _Probably nowhere it'd be easy to get to._ Given Scott's lively personality, too, Buddy also doubted it would be anywhere that passers by might be able to hear the child's cries. He felt his heart sink. That surely meant one of the upper levels, but he knew he couldn't bank on that. Mayhem might not care about passers by overhearing and could well be arrogant enough to figure Matt wouldn't try to find some way of freeing his wife and child.

_Guess that means I'm gonna have to look all round this place until I find them._ Buddy wanted to grimace at the prospect, but Rax would have no reason to scowl.

And then things took a turn for the worse: Buddy rounded a corner and found himself face to face with Vanessa. The one person in the whole building who might just recognise him anyway. _Oh crap._

"What too you so long, Rax?" Vanessa demanded. "We had some unfinished business."

And before Buddy could do or say anything, she had grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, had driven him up against the wall and had started to kiss him.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

With many thanks to Ganeris, Nessa, Beth and Angel for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

What It Takes

Four

Once Hondo was sure that Buddy had safely crossed the yard and entered the building, he turned his attention to the insensate Rax. _Can't leave you there, can't dump you in the river._ He shook his head; he got the feeling that Buddy had a level of history with Rax that not even Matt was aware of. _I can ask about it later,_ he decided. _First things first; need to figure out what to do with him._

From Firecracker's cab, Hondo retrieved a roll of duct tape and used it to bind Rax's wrists together. Then he did the same to the biker's ankles. With those secured, and making sure that there was no sign of trouble in the building, he dragged the unconscious thug away from the scene. This whole area was riddled with alleys; surely there was one he could use to dispose of Rax for the duration.

* * *

Buddy's brain shorted out. The kiss was intense and he couldn't help but go with it. One of his hands found its way to her head and started to stroke her hair; the other smoothed down her back, pulling her in closer. 

The kiss deepened as Vanessa sucked on his tongue, eliciting a deep groan from him. At the back of his mind, a small thought surfaced: This was wrong; this was his 'sister'. But it was also in character. He was supposed to be Rax, and Rax wouldn't be worrying about right or wrong; Rax would just be enjoying it.

Vanessa's hands stroked down his sides as the kiss continued. One hand insinuated itself between his shirt and the waistband of his jeans, pulling them even closer and sending a wave of heated arousal rushing through him. The other hand went to his face, fingertips just lightly stroking him. God but he wanted her, wrong or not.

As she nipped at his lip, he growled and turned them, so that it was Vanessa whose back was pressed up against the wall. His turn. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, swirling it around her tongue and teeth until Vanessa moaned. He pulled her closer as he felt her start to tremble.

Then suddenly, Vanessa stiffened, then pushed him away.

Dazed, breathless and painfully aroused, Buddy could only stare at Vanessa, who didn't look as if she was in a much better state.

"I don't know who you are," she murmured. "And you're good; but you're not Rax."

From feeling far too hot, Buddy suddenly felt cold, and very, very dead.

For the second time in short succession, he found himself rammed up against the hallway wall. This time, though, the expression on Vanessa's face promised something a lot more painful than 'just' a kiss.

"Who are you?" she gritted.

"Vanessa I---"

Almost as suddenly as she'd taken hold of his jacket lapels again, Vanessa let go and stepped back a stunned and confused expression on her face. "Buddy?"

"Yeah."

"What the---" Vanessa stopped and swallowed. "What the hell are you doing? No, scratch that; I know what you're doing. I wanna know why you're doing it. Here. And--- and like that." And she jabbed a hand in his direction.

There might just have been a note of disappointment in her voice. Buddy wasn't sure. "It's a favour to a friend," he replied. "I'm sorry."

Understanding crossed her face. "You're here for Trakker's wife and kid." She shook her head. "You're going to get yourself killed. Mayhem wants that money and wants it badly. I don't get it," she shrugged, "but I ain't gonna get involved – and if you'd got any sense in that damn fool head of yours, you wouldn't either."

"I owe Matt this," Buddy answered simply. "Just--- Just pretend you haven't seen me."

"Sure. And what happens when the real Rax shows up?"

"He won't."

Vanessa shook her head. "You're crazy. You know this jerk wouldn't do the same for you."

"He already has," Buddy shot back. "Vanessa please; just let me go."

Her head dropped, letting a curtain of bright red hair fall between them. "They're on the third floor," she muttered. "Cliff Dagger and Bruno Sheppard are guarding them. Just tell them--- Tell them Mayhem needs to see the prisoners. Dagger and Sheppard are too dumb to question you. Then get the hell out of here. You'll fool them; you won't fool Mayhem any better than you fooled me."

Buddy stared, unable to believe what she'd just said.

Vanessa looked up again. "What are you waiting for, y'idiot? Get going. Before I change my mind."

Then she turned on her heel and stalked off, leaving Buddy gaping. There was something about the whole encounter that made no sense. _But this ain't the time for thinking about it,_ he realised, hastily adjusting his expression back to something that might be a bit more Rax like. _Later. I can think about it later. Much later._

Doing his best to dismiss the interlude from his mind, Buddy turned his attention to locating the stairs. There was a tiny voice at the back of his mind that told him he shouldn't trust Vanessa, but the rest of him refused to believe she'd lie. Not to him and not here and now. He reached the foot of the stairs. _Only one way to find out._

Buddy started to climb.

* * *

Hondo crouched in the shadows of the alley, eyes trained on the loading dock. He'd been back in position nearly an hour; Buddy had been gone nearly an hour and a half. How much longer was it going to take? 

"Sage to Striker."

Alex's voice was a welcome distraction. "Go ahead," Hondo answered.

"We're ready when you are," said Alex. "If you need us."

"Roger that." Hondo smiled faintly. "Seems all quiet though. So far so good."

"All right. We'll stand by."

Hondo heard the communications link click off and he returned all his attention back to the loading dock.

But just as he was beginning to settle back into watching and waiting, a new player walked onto the scene: Rax. The biker had clearly managed to free himself from his duct tape bonds and was now making his way back to Mayhem just as fast as he could, and Hondo felt powerless to stop him this time.

"Damnit," he muttered. He slapped the sidewalk with his hand in frustration. "Can't step in without giving the mission away; can't warn the kid trouble's just walking in." He swallowed. "Sure hope the kid's as sharp as Matt thinks he is."

* * *

As Buddy reached the third floor, he knew Vanessa had told him the truth. Scott's screams were loud and angry. Inwardly, at least, Buddy grinned. It sounded as if the small boy was hungry and he didn't care who knew about it.

"Lady, shut the brat up before I shut him up."

The voice made Buddy stiffen. He recognised it from the night of Mac's murder. It belonged to the Mohawk-wearing thug and for just a second, he was tempted to turn around and run the other way. If Mohawk recognised him he was dead.

"If you harm one hair on his head, I'll personally castrate you."

Sarah's words were enough to still his flight reaction. As long as he went in there, cloaked in Rax's arrogance, there was no reason Mohawk would know the truth.

Once more schooling his expression into a sneer, Buddy swaggered around the corner and into the room where Sarah was being held. She was sitting on a chair, doing her best to pacify the howling Scott in her arms. Either side of her were the two thugs from Mac's shop.

"Hey; I thought you'd gone for food," rumbled Eyepatch.

_So that's where Rax was going,_ Buddy realised, even as he answered, "Mayhem wants to see the prisoners."

"Sure hope he's got some damn food," muttered Mohawk. "That kid's screaming's giving me a headache."

"C'mon," Buddy ordered, gripping Sarah by the arm as gently as he dared. "Mayhem wants to see you now."

"Get your mits offa me," Sarah snapped. "I can stand up on my own."

"She's trouble," Mohawk added. "I'd better come with you."

That was the last thing Buddy wanted, but there was no way he could protest without arousing the thug's suspicion – especially given the venomous look Sarah was treating him to. "You're right. This way."

Buddy started for the stairs, but he'd gone barely two paces in that direction when he heard the sound of someone else walking towards the room. A moment later and Sly Rax appeared in the doorway of Sarah's prison. He looked dishevelled and he was still missing footwear. He also looked pissed off beyond belief.

Behind him, Buddy heard Sarah, Mohawk and Eyepatch all gasp in surprise. _I'm dead._

"Who the hell are you?" Rax snarled.

Buddy hesitated a beat. There was only one way out of this that wasn't going to result in Sarah and Scott getting caught in the crossfire. "More to the point," he drawled, "who the hell are you supposed to be?"

Rax's mouth hinged open. "Huh?"

Buddy glanced over his shoulder at Mohawk and Eyepatch. "Well aren't you gonna grab the impostor?"

Eyepatch nodded. "Oh; yeah. Sure." He started lumbering forwards, towards Rax. Then he stopped. "How do we know he's an impostor?"

Buddy stared for a second, then summoned up every ounce of ire he could manage. "Do I look like a freaking fake?" Eyepatch slowly shook his head. "Then grab the damn impostor before Mayhem wants to know what took us so long."

"Waitaminute!" Rax yelped. "I ain't no fake! I'm the real Rax!"

"Sure," Buddy drawled as Eyepatch and Mohawk brushed past him and grabbed Rax's arms. "An' I'm the tooth fairy."

Rax continued to babble as the two thugs dragged him off. The moment the coast was clear, Buddy turned back to the astonished Sarah.

"Give me Scott," he said urgently. "We're gonna have to get outta here now."

Sarah started for a second. "Wait, what?"

"Shit, we don't have time for this; they're dumb but they ain't that dumb: Sarah give me Scott!"

"Buddy?"

"Yes, Buddy."

"What the---" Sarah stopped. "You know what; tell me later." She handed over Scott, who seemed to sense the urgency of the situation and stopped crying. "Which way is out?"

"It's down the stairs, then left and follow the hallway to the loading bay. I'm right behind you."

That was all the encouragement Sarah needed. She took off out of the room and down the stairs. Buddy was at her heels.

From somewhere behind him, he heard an explosion of anger. He guessed that meant Mohawk and Eyepatch had finally worked out they'd grabbed the wrong Rax, and that knowledge lent him extra speed down the stairs. It wasn't going to be enough though. It was too far to the loading dock. Rax and his two pet thugs would catch them up.

As he reached the foot of the stairs, he made Sarah stop for a moment. "Here," he said, "take Scott."

Sarah eyed him mistrustfully. "But---"

"Don't argue!" Buddy retorted. "Look, just trust me. I'm right behind you, all right?" He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. "Go, already!"

This time, at least, she didn't bother arguing and instead set off for the loading bay. Buddy took a couple of steps in that direction, then stopped and turned to face the foot of the stairs. _Time to buy a little more time._

* * *

Sarah ran, Scott clutched tightly against her body. She didn't know what was going on, but Buddy was right; this wasn't the place to argue. Just as long as they both got out of this, she could ask for an explanation later. 

"What the---"

The voice made Sarah look up in time to see the speaker, a technician – to judge by the lab coat – crumple into an unconscious heap. Behind the prone scientist stood Vanessa.

For a second, Sarah thought it was the escape over. Then, to her surprise, Vanessa stepped aside.

"Why?" asked Sarah.

Vanessa shrugged. "You or your husband ever drop shit on Buddy and I'll kill you personally."

"You don't ever have to worry about that," Sarah answered.

"Then get the hell outta here," said Vanessa turning away. "Or else I might have to do something you'd regret."

Sarah didn't need second bidding. She took to her heels once more. Rounding one more corner, she found the loading dock Buddy had mentioned. Through that she ran and then across the vehicle yard, dimly aware that she had no idea where to go beyond this.

"Sarah! Over here!"

Blindly, she followed the familiar voice, but it was only when she felt someone put their arms around her to stop her flight that she realised that, while she knew the voice, she most definitely did not recognise the person. Dressed in some kind of uniform and wearing a mask that came down over his eyes, he looked for all the world like the two VENOM agents who'd grabbed her.

"It's OK, Sarah; I'm one of the good guys," he said. "Promise."

* * *

"Oh you are one arrogant son of a bitch," Rax snarled as he reached the foot of the stairs. 

Buddy grinned back. "Takes one to know one."

"Hawks?!" Rax was incredulous. "Geeze you're a dumb puke if you think you can get away with this."

Buddy just grinned more. "Might wanna rethink that, Rax; I've already got away with it. Sarah's home free."

Rax smiled. "Yeah; but you ain't." The two thugs loomed behind Rax. "And I guess I got me some real good help here."

_Oh shit._ Buddy started backing up along the hallway. "Guess you still can't do your own dirty work, huh?"

Rax's face contorted into a sneer. "Did you forget what happened to your pal Mac?"

"No," Buddy answered, continuing to back away. "And someday, Rax, you're gonna pay for that."

"And who's gonna make me? You?" Rax laughed. "Grab the little puke."

Mohawk and Eyepatch stepped forwards, reaching for Buddy. Buddy leapt back, avoiding their grabbing hands.

"Gotta do better than that," he warned. "Hey Rax – maybe you should try yourself."

"And maybe you should watch your mouth," Rax retorted.

"Why?" Buddy asked, backing further along the hallway. Another couple of steps and he'd be able to make a break for it. "You don't seriously think I actually care what you think?"

"You should," said Rax.

The two thugs made another attempt at grabbing him and Buddy leapt back again.

"And maybe you shoulda used your brain when you had the chance," Buddy shot back. "See ya!"

And Buddy took off down the hallway.

* * *

"Where's Buddy?" the man in the mask asked as Sarah panted. 

"He---" Sarah swallowed and wished she could catch her breath. "He stayed behind. I think. There was Rax and Sheppard and---"

"Christ," mumbled the man. "I'm gonna kick the kid's ass." Then, apparently to no-one in particular, he added, "Sage, now!"

"Only if you beat me to it," Sarah retorted, ignoring the cryptic comment.

The man chuckled. "Well--- Wait! Down!" Before Sarah could say a word, she found herself being forced into a crouch.

Looking round, she saw the reason for it as Buddy came sprinting out of the building. He took the loading bay at a leap that took him almost half way across the vehicle yard. He stumbled as he landed, but he kept going. A moment later and Sarah saw the reasons why Buddy hadn't bothered to stop. Rax, Dagger and Sheppard came out onto the loading dock.

Rax waved his arms, and Sarah guessed he was ordering the two thugs on, after Buddy.

"Blaster – fire."

The phrase came from the masked man and a second later, a bright beam of light shot across the distance. Sarah saw Buddy duck and then some of the junk in the vehicle yard exploded.

That was too much as far as Sarah was concerned, and she fainted.

* * *

"Sarah?" 

Fuzzily, Sarah thought she ought to recognise the speaker, but she felt too fogged and confused to try to work it out.

"It's OK, Buddy; she's coming round. Figure it was all just a bit too much of a shock."

Buddy. Unwillingly, her memories started to clear. Her abduction. The rescue. The masked man. Buddy's escape. Opening her eyes, Sarah found herself lying on the bench seat of Firecracker, a worried looking Buddy, with a grinning Scott in his arms, looking on. Beside him was--- "Hondo McLean?"

Hondo chuckled. "I didn't think you'd recognised me earlier."

"Before? Oh." Sarah shook her head. "The masked guy. Right."

"Right," agreed Hondo.

She slowly sat up, wincing a bit as the world swayed a little. "Are we--- Where are we?"

"A couple of blocks away from VENOM's hideout," Buddy answered.

"Shouldn't we be getting the hell away from here?"

"VENOM are a little occupied right now," said Hondo, grinning. "Alex and Bruce came up with a distraction and it seemed too good to waste."

Sarah looked from Hondo to Buddy, who was now grinning broadly. "Should I ask?"

"Well," said Buddy, "Bruce found the building plans."

"And traced the sewer lines," put in Hondo.

"And figured out a way to make 'em back flow," added Buddy.

"So right now," Hondo finished, "Mayhem's got one hell of a shit problem."

Sarah giggled. "Mayhem's not gonna like that."

Hondo grinned. "No kidding."

"Still," Buddy mused, "we probably oughta get outta here. If nothing else," he added, "I kinda figure there's someone who's dying to see Hondo and I ain't lying."

Sarah smiled. "I'll just bet."

* * *

It was probably an understatement to say that Matt was happy to see his wife and son return to the mansion in one piece, Buddy decided. On one level, he was pleased that it had all worked out and that Sarah was back, but seeing the family group together just reminded him of Vanessa and the fact that they were standing on opposite sides of the fence. 

"Kid," Hondo advised, "I should go shower and clean up. Matt'll probably wanna talk to you but that ain't gonna be for a while yet."

"Yeah." Buddy sighed. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I'll see you later."

Hondo grinned. "Damn straight."

Making quick excuses – not that Buddy thought Matt actually heard him – he headed up to his apartment. A hot shower and at least eight hours of sleep seemed like a good plan.

Maybe then certain other things might start making sense.

Unfortunately, while the shower had mostly taken care of the hair dye and other grime, the sleep hadn't helped the night's events make sense and as he worked on another set of brakes – this time, at least, the car was a recent model of Toyota that had been looked after properly – Buddy couldn't help but wonder about Vanessa's behaviour.

Why had she let him go?

Why had she kissed him?

Why had he let her kiss him?

The three questions buzzed around his mind like persistent flies. Buddy just wished he could mash his thoughts with a rolled up newspaper in the same way he dealt with flies.

"I have to say," said a voice, "black hair didn't suit you."

Buddy looked up from the brake disk he was working on and offered Sarah a smile. "I guess I should be grateful I didn't manage to turn my hair green this time."

Sarah's eyebrows lifted. "Should I ask?"

Buddy shook his head. Vanessa had been involved in that one, too. "Long story."

Sarah shot him a knowing look, but all she said was, "I just wanted to stop by on my way into town, to say thanks. You didn't have to do what you did last night."

Buddy ducked his head and studied the brake disk in an effort to cover his discomfort. "You and Matt have been so good to me," he murmured. "Seemed like a good way to return the favour."

Sarah chuckled. "Trust me, next time? Flowers and chocolates are a lot less likely to get you killed."

"Guess so."

"I also figure you should know, Vanessa let me go last night."

Buddy's head snapped up suddenly. "What?"

"She let me go. She could have stopped me leaving and she let me go." Sarah sighed. "She didn't say it in so many words, but I think she did it for you."

Buddy let his head drop. "This would be so easy if she'd just stop caring."

"No it wouldn't," said Sarah softly. "Because you'd still care, even if she didn't."

There was so much truth in that statement, Buddy didn't even try to answer it. Instead, he slipped the old brake disk off and fitted the replacement.

"I'll see you later," Sarah continued, taking the hint. "I need to get down to the court house and try to explain, if I can, why I didn't pay Matt's tickets yesterday!"

Buddy mustered a smile at that. "Good luck?" he offered.

"I think I'll need it."

Buddy watched Sarah walk out of the workshop and a moment later, he heard her Chevy pull away from the gas station. The answer to some of his questions presented itself: Vanessa cared about him.

He shook his head. He should have known. The answer didn't help.

* * *

The rest of the day dragged as far as Buddy was concerned. Once the Toyota's brakes had been done, there had been nothing else booked in and only a small handful of other customers. Finally, at four o'clock Earl said, "Kid, you might as well go on home. You look like you could use an early night." He grinned. "You wouldn't know anything about a sewer problem in downtown, now would you?" 

Buddy feigned innocence. "Who, me?"

Earl laughed. "That's what I figured." He gestured to Firecracker. "Go on; get. Take the extra sleep when it's offered."

It was Buddy's turn to laugh. "I'm going. See you tomorrow, Earl."

He drove back to the mansion slowly. Earl was right, Buddy acknowledged, he could use the early night. Even if it would give him even more unwanted time to think about the night before. He sighed. It wasn't going to do him any good brooding over it. Vanessa had done what she'd done; he'd done what he'd done. That was it and all about it.

Maybe, someday, he'd figure it out.

He pulled into the mansion's parking garage and noted the blue Chevy wasn't back yet, which struck him as odd. Surely Sarah would have finished her errands by now? Buddy frowned. Maybe there'd been a problem with the judge over those fines? He wasn't sure quite what excuse Sarah was going to give as to why they hadn't been paid the day before, but he was betting "VENOM kidnapped me" probably wasn't going to be it. Anything else would probably sound like an excuse. Come to that, even if she told the truth, Buddy doubted the judge would believe her.

He shook his head as a he climbed out of Firecracker. Maybe she'd stayed in town to meet up with Matt.

He locked Firecracker and headed up the stairs. There were plenty of reasons why Sarah might not be back yet, except that as Buddy reached the top of the stairs and almost walked straight into a sombre looking Alex, he knew that whatever the reason was, it wasn't anything good.

"I tried calling the gas station," said Alex before Buddy could even open his mouth.

"We were quiet; Earl sent me home." Buddy swallowed. "What's happened?"

There was a long hesitation, then, quietly, Alex said, "There was an accident, in town. Outside the courthouse."

"Sarah---"

Alex put his hand on Buddy's shoulder and squeezed gently. "She was hit by a speeding car---"

"She's dead," Buddy said softly. "Isn't she?"

There was another long hesitation, then Alex, regretfully nodded.

* * *

Sarah Trakker's funeral was a much smaller affair than Mac's had been. Both her parents were in attendance, as were Alex and Hondo. Buddy, at least, was grateful for their presence. Ever since Sarah's accident, Matt had been wrapped up in a cocoon of icy cold grief and even at the graveside service, Buddy watched as the older man stood apart from the rest of the party of mourners. He suspected that it would be a very long time before Matt let this go, but maybe Alex and Hondo could help. 

Buddy rubbed his arms, once more feeling uncomfortable in his dark suit. This wasn't right, or fair. Sarah certainly hadn't deserved to be the victim of a hit-and-run. And the bitter irony was that but for Mayhem's intervention the day before, she wouldn't even have been at the courthouse.

Buddy watched as the casket was slowly lowered into the grave.

No; it wasn't right and it wasn't fair. And someday, Mayhem would pay for it.


End file.
